


"What do you mean you’re sick?! You’re my partner in crime!"

by Blossomdriver



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22268278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blossomdriver/pseuds/Blossomdriver
Summary: When Tuesday gets sick, Plasma pays him a visit.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	"What do you mean you’re sick?! You’re my partner in crime!"

As the Dawning had come to an end, most guardians had already extended themselves farther than was needed for the holidays. Decorations that lined the Tower were being taken down and everyone else had returned back to their normal duties. 

Even Tuesday who could barely stand up straight, let alone even properly breathe through his nose was taking down the decorations that his fireteam had helped put up around the shop.

The Warlock’s vision blurred around the edges as he took a step forward to grab at the garland that hung just above the door frame. He was nearly sent crashing into the wall before he stuck his arms out to catch himself on the edge of the door-frame

Azalea pops up to the left of Tuesday and he can only make out the vague outline of her shell at the corner of his vision.

 _“You are too sick to be working like this, you need to rest.”_ She told him. And as Tuesday goes to open his mouth to tell her that he was fine, the Warlock was hit with another dizzy spell. One hand curling tighter on the door frame as the other still pressed firmly against the wall.

“Fine,” He says instead. He knows when he's beat and he knows it's not a wise desition when it comes to fighting back with his Ghost.

+++

Tuesday can’t recall when he fell asleep or that he even fell asleep in the first place. Though when he feels Azalea nudging at him from the corner of his mind, he cracks open an eye. Brown eyes slowly focusing on the world around him, even when the room spun ever so slightly. 

“What,” His voice is rough and groggy from sleep as he lifts his head. Blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness. 

There is a teacup on the nightstand next to him. Weird, he doesn't recall making tea.

 _“Plasma is calling,”_ Azalea says, though she doesn’t sound pleased about it. He gives her a nod and she answers it.

“Hey Plasma,” The Warlock’s voice strained on the words, hated how it sounded.

“Tuesday! Perfect I’ve called you twice and you didn’t pick up,” Tuesday doesn’t get a word out as Plasma continues. “Zavala asked for my help on a mission, and I was wondering if you would like to help me with it.”

Tuesday wanted to sigh but his ribs and lungs hurt too much to allow him to do so. “I would love to join you Plasma, but I’m sick.”

"What do you mean you’re sick?! You’re my partner in crime!” Plasma asked. The sound that came from the other end was a chest-rattling cough followed by Tuesday blowing his nose.

"It means I'm sick, I might be a guardian but I'm still human." The Warlock replied, his voice hoarse and raw. "Go ask Starlight or Dusk for help." Tuesday can barely get those words out before another cough piles up at the back of his throat.

Shaky hands reached over to the teacup on the nightstand. Drinking the rest as he let out a harsh gasp when the coughing lessens. He didn’t even get a chance to complain over how cold it had gotten before the entire cup was depleted.

"Well, I hope you get better soon." Plasma said as the comms clicked off. Tuesday could hear the sorrow in Plasma's voice, but there wasn't anything that he could do. Azalea did everything in her power to keep the Warlock bed-bound until he shows signs of getting better.

Tuesday set the cup on the side table and laid his head back, lightly thudding it against the backboard. With the addition to him being sick, that means the shop had to be closed, and that means he couldn't give bounties and tarot reads to any guardians.

A few years ago, he would have thought nothing of the silents that swept across his home. But now that he had re-adjusted to being closer to guardians again. The silence grew unbearable with each passing second.

In a huff, Tuesday flung the bedsheets off of him and headed towards the kitchen. Grabbing the cup as he did so.

 _"And just where do you think you're going?"_ The Ghost asked with annoyance, trying to catch up with her Guardian.

"Making myself tea, I can't sit in bed all day," Tuesday replied as he puts a fresh pot of water onto the stove. He could make the process go quicker if he used his solar light. Though he doesn't want a repeat of the last time he tried that - nearly burning down the curtains that hung above the window. Though he should have known better than to not install curtains right next to the stove.

As Tuesday pours the water into the teapot, there was a loud knock at the door. Causing the Warlock to jump and nearly have the pan sent flying across the kitchen. Settling the pan back onto the stove - Azalea had to nudge her frame against the dial to turn it off. Tuesday pulls the shawl closer to him as he heads for the door. 

"Were closed -" The Rest of his words died on his tongue when he opened the door. Standing on the other side was Plasma holding a bag.

“I thought you had a mission?” Tuesday said as he steps out of the way to allow the Titan to enter the shop.

“As you said, I asked Starlight and Dusk for help.” He said cheerfully as he crossed the room, heading in the direction of the kitchen. Setting the bag down onto the table. 

Tuesday closed the door and followed after the Exo. “Meaning you handed the mission of to them instead.” 

Plasma turns to the Warlock, his faceplate shifting into a smile - red light spilling from his jaw and Tuesday can’t help but give the other a smile in return.

“But why are you here, I told you I’m sick.”

“Good thing for me is that I’m an Exo and I can’t catch biological illnesses,”

Well, he got him there.

“So what did you bring?” Tuesday took a seat and grabs for the bag.

“I don’t know what soup is the best for illnesses, so I got you onion cheddar soup and a loaf of bread from the bakery to like.” 

The Warlocks green eyes go wide, drawing his attention away from the bag and back to the Titan. He's unable to wipe away the smile that made his cheeks hurt. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

Tuesday hadn’t noticed that Plasma had sat down in the spot next to him until he happened to glance over. 

“It really is nothing, plus I knew if you didn’t get some company you would have burned through every book you own in the matter of a day.”

“Thank you,” Tuesday repeats.

“Anything for my friend.” 

**Author's Note:**

> as always thank you fleischer for requesting things (and also give me an excuse to write about these boys)
> 
> Plasma belongs to [CRUSHER_KNIGHT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CRUSHER_KNIGHT)


End file.
